


Fairy Godfather

by cxhztile (orphan_account)



Series: Aftermaths [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Life Partners, Sad with a Happy Ending, also part of it is personal experience...., set after 04x03, there's a bit of sad ok, this is all bc of that moment of sherlock handing rosie to john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: Parenting when widowed can be hard -- unless you've got someone who vowed to have your back.





	Fairy Godfather

3 AM. Just like any other time of night, not pleasant to wake up to the sound of a wailing baby at that point.

It had become routine and mundane, honestly. Rosie would start crying after having been dead asleep, stirring up everyone in the general vicinity. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson lived downstairs below the flat which shielded her from the pain staking noise every morning. John would awaken, head starting to throb as the deafening outcry rang through his ears.

By time he would stroll out of his room and through the open door of the sitting room, he was to be met by Sherlock’s tall frame hovering by the crib and comforting Rosie, who lay wriggling in his arms. He always reassured John he had it under control and shooed him off, telling him to go back to sleep. John didn’t find out his trick for a long while since he always complied and was dozed off by time he hit the mattress again. That was until the day he witnessed it. 

They spent all morning interviewing possible clients and by noon, Sherlock looked as though he’d drop dead. A majority of that was out of sheer boredom but a minor reason still remained. Ever since John moved back in and he had taken up his role as godfather to aid in caring for the baby, Sherlock had begun to form bags under his eyes, slowly getting darker by each passing day. His circadian rhythm prematurely set him as fairly nocturnal, the lack of people being awake and bothered him gave him an advantage to think, and with tuning himself to help out Rosie’s constant needs, he was hardly sleeping in between. 

13:30 is when he gave in. The possible client they just interviewed was more so a sham than worthy of their skills and was on their merry way out. Sherlock watched them trail out before shifting his entire body around in his chair, back resting in its seat and head, as well as legs, comfortably hanging over either arm rest. John noticed this posture, knowing it meant he was over it, and set a makeshift “ **DO NOT DISTURB - CONSULTING DETECTIVE OFF DUTY** ” sign upon the sitting room door before setting Rosie on the floor by her toys to go make himself coffee. Unlike his companion, he was fully awake but similarly nearly bored to death and afternoon coffee would give him a small task to do. 

Sherlock was drifted almost all the way into sleep when he felt something gently touch his palm on the arm that dangled off the chair. Opening one eye to use his peripheral vision, he noted a small form sat in front of his hand, clearly having caught the boredom fever, too. He shifted his torso to scoop her up and repositioned himself, adjusting to having her weight on his chest. They were both out like lights shortly after and it took John a minute to finish pouring his coffee and take a sip to notice them. He came close to spitting it out when he did finally take notice, though.

 _So that’s his secret, huh?,_  he thought after taking a second to compose himself.  He knew Sherlock would be crabby if he woke him now but the curiosity was killing him. So, he knelt beside the overly occupied chair and lightly tapped his partner’s shoulder. Sherlock grumbled, almost growled actually, as he swiveled his head to look at who just dared to disturb his nap.

“ _What_ , John?” He softly demanded, tone wavering in his being less than pleased to have been interrupted.

“So that’s your trick to get her to quiet down at 3 in the morning? Lie down with her and let her sleep on your chest?” John whispered, his tone more cheery and inquisitive of the two. 

“Yes, yes. Isn’t that blatantly obvious?”

“But then, how does she end up back in her crib by time I’m ready to get up?”

“Well, she cries for food every morning at 6:15 sharp. She demands and I supply, it’s simple. Promptly afterwards, she’s out cold again so I set her in the crib and attempt to catch another hour or two myself. The trick worked on me as a child so I assumed it would work again in this scenario.” Sherlock explained, as if a minute maths problem, yawning heavily halfway through. 

“So that’s why you’re turning a raccoon.” John chuckled, cupping Sherlock’s cheek and running his thumb over the dark patch beneath his eye. Usually, Sherlock would swat the hand away, but he didn’t have the energy and it was actually kind of soothing. He almost leaned into it, as a matter of fact. 

“Now go back to sleep. If she starts fussing, I’ll get her.” John practically felt empowered being the one telling  _him_  that for once. He playfully ruffled some curls on his way up and took a seat in his favorite chair. Sherlock huffed at his hair being messed with but still rolled his head back to a comfortable spot and scooted the infant on his rib cage higher up so her head rest under his chin. 

* * *

It was half past hour 17 when Sherlock awoke again. It was mostly natural but also Rosie was sat up and tugging at his hair at that point. When he looked up at her and said her name in a slightly demeaning tone, she just giggled. He situated himself properly in the chair and Rosie just had to cope with losing her current play toy. As he did, he noted John fumbling in the kitchen.

“John, what exactly are you doing?” The detective interrogated out of pure interest.

“Making dinner, thank you very much.” 

“That’s… odd. Given our long pattern of ordering takeaway and being supplied only with my current experiments, not anything particularly edible…” 

“Well, I went out and bought actual food that can be cooked while you were still passed out asleep.” John countered, only briefly looking out of the kitchen.

“John,  _please_  tell me your not going to give me one of your doctor lectures on the importance of getting enough sleep and eating healthy…” Sherlock groaned.

“Oh god, no. I don’t even listen to those.” John shook his head. 

Sherlock bounced Rosie on his knee, either massaging her tiny hands between his long fingers or whisking her blonde wisps of hair into little twists standing off her head, until John approached them with a tray of food and she was set on the floor. In return, she sat where she was placed and clung onto the leg of Sherlock’s trousers.

“You two seem to have a mutual liking of each other.” John indicated as he settled into his chair. This caused Sherlock to look up from where he was already picking at his food.

“I beg to differ… I’m only satisfying her desires when necessary. She, on the other hand, seems to have an obsession with me. Likely inherited from you…” 

“Oh come on, Sherlock, drop the guard. Just admit that for once you have genuine compassion for a child. Anytime anything liquid touches you, you wipe it off unless it’s a bit of drool from her wet hand or a bit of formula from off her lip after you feed her. Just earlier, you weren’t happy that I touched your hair but it was acceptable when she nearly tugged all of it off when you woke up. I’m pretty sure you hold her more often than I do at this point. You’ve only had half that connection with two other kids, Archie and the girl on the sleeping plane. Then again, Archie only cared about murder photos and the little girl was your sister being trapped in her own head… Regardless, it’s nice to see you care about a younger human being and it’s my daughter of all people.” John was virtually out of breath after his entire ramble. 

Moments later, Sherlock was locked into staring at his plate and his showing of true guilt was creeping on his face, stomach twisting into knots. It took John a minute of silence to see it but he immediately became discouraged and went to pinch his nose. 

“My god, Sherlock…” John breathlessly mutter as it set in. He moved his tray from his lap to the side table to be able to sit forward with his elbows on his knees and fold his hands in front of his mouth. 

“My first and last vow was to be there for you two always… And you saw where that got us,” Sherlock half laughed. “And, I’ve only  _just_  regained your trust…”

As if blue irises didn’t already convey a feeling of sadness, John could read genuine pain and regret in Sherlock’s eyes. He couldn’t stand to sit there any longer watching this and squatted at Sherlock’s feet. The tray of food was removed from his lap which gave John the access to take Sherlock’s hands in his and use the knees to front of him to steady his balance.

“I already told you during the Baskerville case that you don’t need to continuously apologize to me, especially in this situation. Yes, I was mad at you and blamed you for what happened to Mary but I’ve since realized that there was nothing either of us could have done. Not to say the support and help isn’t a relief, but you don’t have to do it because of your grudge on yourself.” He sighed. Sherlock squeezed his hands and weakly nodded, stomach still threatening a queasy feeling. 

Once he pieced himself back together, he finally confessed, “In actuality, she is lovely, though… I shouldn’t be surprised given that her father is the bravest and kindest human being I’ve had the pleasure to meet.” He delicately smiled as John stood up as he spoke. 

John gingerly held Sherlock’s cheeks, Sherlock’s hands over his own, and kissed his hairline, catching part of his forehead and some of his curls. Their hands lingered for a moment before John took his seat again. 

To say that they were only best friends was an understatement. Platonic life partners fit the bill better. 

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wrote and posted this on tumblr (my blog is eroscalling ;p) but my writing never gets traction there. so i figured i'd repost it here. i had an image of sherlock asleep in his chair with her on his chest so wrote about it (and drew a piece but it's not great). btw the personal experience is that's how my dad got me to sleep when i was a baby.... but yea. a thing... lmao


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